Page 6 of New Beginning

I’m still sorry.

Chapter Two

Mikkel walked deeper into his house, wondering if a date with pain would cure his malaise, and heard the tsk in his head.

No, it won’t. You have a visitor. He’s already inside.

He stopped walking and turned back. He could guess who the visitor was. No one else came in uninvited. There was nothing between him and Azrael now. Even so, when he went into his sitting area and saw that familiar figure lounging on the couch, his heart clenched.

Nothing? Really.

Mikkel politely told his house to shut the fuck up.

Azrael stood and walked towards him.

“Forgotten how to knock?” Mikkel asked. “Lift hand, clench fist, hit wood. Then allow me time to ignore you.”

Azrael laughed and wrapped his arms around him. “It’s good to see you.”

Mikkel wouldn’t admit it was good to see Azrael, even though it was. The angel of death didn’t visit often. There had been a time when the two of them could not be parted. That time had gone forever. They were supposed to be friends. Mikkel was still trying. His hug of Azrael was very brief.

“Is it not good to see me?” Azrael asked.

“It depends on what you want.”

“I need your help. There’s a stubborn soul trapped in The Drift.”

Mikkel patted the couch and they sat down.

“Trapped how?”

“Swamped by guilt for something that wasn’t his fault. Overwhelmed with grief for three dead friends and for a family he didn’t know. Two children and their parents who were caught up in the car crash. He was driving his friends home from a school reunion. He’s been a good man all his life, though he’s lived with a crushing sense of remorse for far too long for things that were never under his control. Now he keeps trying to kill himself. He’s surprisingly inventive. It’s painful to watch. He needs rescuing.”

“And you can’t do that?”

“You know I can’t. He’s been in The Drift for too long. I can’t help him in the way that he needs. You can show him a way forward. I suspect he requires more time to come to terms with what happened. Sparlow could give him that time.”

Mikkel wasn’t sure Azrael couldn’t help this lost soul. Just saying he couldn’t, didn’t make it true. But Mikkel could offer time. That was true.

“What’s his name?”

“Teddy Doyle. He’s twenty-seven years old. Will you go?”

Mikkel nodded. “Of course.”

“Thank you, my friend.” Azrael smiled at him. “I have missed you.”

Mikkel felt a lump develop in his throat. “I miss you too.” No point not being honest. It made no difference to the situation.

“You are loved, Mikkel.”

But not by you. And Mikkel didn’t think the inhabitants of Sparlow loved him. Respected him, yes, but not loved.

Azrael pressed two fingers to Mikkel’s temple. “I’ve anchored his thread to yours.”

Azrael vanished.

Mikkel closed his eyes and took a breath. The house groaned around him, a low, pulsing vibration through the floorboards and walls, a warning.